Till the world ends
by elveriamoir
Summary: This is dedicated solely to the god of all Toymakers and Tinkers. Somehow he wound his way into my brain. Here's to Bifur.
1. Tinker

_**AN: I do not own any of the characters or places in the hobbit, they belong to Professor Tolkien and he would kill me for how I have corrupted them. **_

Tinker.

Bifur knew he wasn't royalty. Hell he knew he wasn't even a warrior, but when those blue eyes looked at him he felt like he could slay dragons. He swallowed hard as the beautiful blond sashayed towards him, blue eyes never leaving his. His fingers bit into the wood under his hands as he watched dexterous fingers work down the ties holding the thin undershirt together. He froze as the fabric hit the floor and he was left to stare at the muscled chest of the dwarf slinking towards him. Dressed in only skin tight leather trousers the dwarf straddled his lap and wound strong fingers into the white striped black of Bifur's hair. His fingers itched to touch but he knew the rules of this game well and gripped the arms of his chair tighter still. The music sounded up through the thin floor of the inn and the blond god above him started to grind to the beat. Bifur swallowed hard as blond hair, free of its braids, spilled over a sweat sheened muscle chest. The song came to an end and another started with Bifur hardly noticing, the slender hips in front of him swayed and he was transfixed by the ripple of muscle as the dwarf undulated. He couldn't help the groan that ripped from his throat as the long fingers settled on the ties of the leather trousers. His breathing was ragged as he met cerulean blue eyes and he forced himself to stay sitting even when the leather hit the floor. His eyes roved over the expanse of tanned skin as the blonde prowled, closing the distance between them. He finally let go of the seat and closed his fingers around the narrow hips even as the blond claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. Even as his head spun Bifur made a mental note to make Fili play things more often.

_**AN: Leave me a review and let me know what you think please. **_


	2. Things in the Rear-view Mirror

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

Things in the rear-view mirror may not be as they appear.

Bifur ran a knarled hand through his greying locks as he sat in front of the large steel mirror. A plain, aging male peered back at him, it's only unique feature being the axe embedded in his forehead. He snorted softly and a smirk found its way onto his lips. Oh they would never know what had hit them.

Straightening from the half slouch he had adopted, Bifur dragged the leather band out of his hair, allowing the braid to fall apart. Pushing to his feet he stripped with practiced ease, dumping his grey-brown, tattered gear on the floor, alongside his holey boots. Practiced fingers scooped a special type of liquid soap from a pot and he made short work of the skin-coloured paint hiding his tattoos.

Skin clear of gunk he threw his head back allowing his white-stripped, black dreadlocks to fall down his back. He freed his beard from the band holding it and shook the dust that dulled it down out. The beard (while not dreadlocked) matched his hair and he shot his reflection a cocky grin.

He stepped up to a large black chest and opened the lid to rake through its internals. He nodded and pulled several items of clothing free. Wasting little time he stepped into a pair of heavily buckled black leather trousers. Stuffing his feet into loosely laced black leather boots, he tugged a skin tight black vest over his head and tucked it into the trousers. Fastening the buckles on his boots took a little longer as they were stiff, but he managed and slipped a silver studded black leather belt through the loops on his trousers. His vest was ripped at the neck and he tied a leather thong around his neck, allowing the spikey silver pendent to lie at the hollow of his throat. He wrapped thick black leather bands around his left wrist and fastened a heavy metal and spiked jet bracelet around the other.

He sat in front of the mirror again and pulled the pots laid on the table by it towards him. His skin was pale and his tattoos stood out a stark black on his arms. With a steady hand he carefully outlined his lips with a black kohl. Carefully he began shading them in, working from the darkest of blacks at the edges of his lips he faded the colour out to a pale grey where they met. His eyes were next and he started by ringing them with kohl pencil again. The black line was as close as he could get it to his lash line. Giving himself that base he set about finishing his look. He took the pale grey powder up to his brows and followed the line around to fill in the circles under his eyes. He put the brushes down and flexed his fingers before starting on the next shade. This slightly darker grey he took up to the bone of his eye socket above his eye and swept it down to the same place under it. Using his pinkie finger he blended the two colours together, before picking up the final tub of powder. The powder in this was inky black and he hummed as he coated his eyelid with it. A careful examination told him his eyes were even and he tilted his head back to slip in the white contacts, having to blink several times to get them to sit properly. They reduced his vision to shades of grey but he could managed well enough. The final touch to his makeup was to use the largest brush on the table to brush some of the palest grey powder into the hollows of his cheeks, just under the bones.

A shook his hair back from his face and stood, slipping several silver skull and dragon rings onto his hands as he did. A silver topped ebony cane completed his ensemble and he left the room without a backward glance. Striding through the dingy corridors he could hear a rumbling getting louder as he approached. He pushed through the heavy doors and strode out onto the stage. Howls and cheers filled his ears and he grinned viciously. "Who's ready to rock?"

_**AN: Let me know what you think.**_


	3. Till the World Ends

_**Yes I know so far the chapters have been posted elsewhere, but now you get a completely new one. This one ties in with Bifur from An Unexpected Hobbit.  
What else am I forgetting? Oh yes. Disclaimer. I do not own the hobbit. The creation of its characters and world belongs to Tolkien and was brought to life by Peter Jackson and co. **_

_**So without further ado, your story.**_

Till the World Ends.

Most people saw the axe embedded in his skull as a disability. He was fine with that, if they wanted to see him as a brainless fool who couldn't understand them when they spoke then that was their problem. He would shrug mentally when they spoke to him like he was a small child and the vacant smile that appeared on his face when he imagined ways to make them die slowly probably didn't help. He was good at his act however and bar his cousins no-one in their small town had ever seen him loose his temper. Bofur even complained he used to be more prone to anger before the axe and weren't head injuries meant to make dwarves more aggressive. He would just shrug and merrily eat his way through whatever flowers Bombur had picked for his meal.

Since the attack meat had tasted off to him and his once vivid imagination turned against him in this. He had decided very early on that most meats weren't an option for him. He could do without the visits to the outhouse after every meal.

He had found his co-ordination wasn't affected by the ever present wound-scar. Happily he had been able to keep on with his tinkering and toymaking. The engineering part of his mind hadn't been affected either and he could make fantastic mechanisms that could cause his toys to fly or prowl or even play music. That last one had been a favourite with Bombur's children of all ages and he was soon inundated with requests from families that Bombur knew.

His crafting wasn't his only skill, and despite his outward lack of aggression he was a fierce and deadly fighter. If he preferred a boar-spear to a more traditional weapon then it was no-one's business than his own. If he didn't tell them that it had belonged to the dwarf who had given his life for Bifur in the same attack that took his ability to speak in the common tongue then that was their fault for not listening. Bofur knew, but then his cousin had been the one to find them. Bifur could remember the, then young, miner swinging into the orc with a viciousness that completely wiped the cheery smile from his cheeks and crystallised the twinkle in his eyes. That Bofur had been using his mattock having just finished his shift in the mines only cemented Bifur's belief that anything was a deadly weapon in the right hands.

His loyalty to his family could not be outshone by anything or anyone. So when his cousins had signed up to travel with Oakenshield to reclaim Erebor, Bifur had rolled his eyes and signed the parchment seconds after they. He found instead of his loyalty being pulled in different directions his family simply grew.

First he became protective of the Durin princes, far too young and pretty to be on such a quest.

They were shortly followed by the scribe Ori and his oldest brother. Bifur believed them both to be far too genteel to be trekking through the mud and rain. Nori didn't seem to fit but Bifur accepted that he came with his brothers and merely turned a blind eye to the other's tricks.

Balin was next to secure his loyalty and earn the right to be called family. The older dwarf was calm and peaceful, and listened to what Bifur had to say.

Strangely the hobbit was next. Despite the distance Bifur tried to keep the small male at there was a defensiveness there that stoked a similar feeling in his chest. He kept out of the hobbit's way though. It was easier on them all if he didn't put them through that.

Oin came next in his adoption of the Company. He hadn't realised he was calling them all family until he fussed worriedly over the healer in Rivendale.

Ah Rivendale. Things certainly came to a head there. He found out why Nori hadn't fit in comfortably with the family tag. It was because the wily, sneaky dwarf was his One. That had come as a shock. Then the hobbit being the first to give them a bonding gift meant Bifur threw his caution of the small male out of the window.

Dwalin was the next in his family. Since the warrior found his One in Ori and the scribe was the brother of Nori, not to mention the guard being Balin's brother, there was really no other place for him.

Gloin was the second last company member to be thought of as family. Bifur had been cautious of the banker-turned-warrior, but the red haired dwarf's devotion to his One and son had softened his heart. Then he had seen Gloin tackle goblins to protect Bofur's back and it was settled.

Strangely it was Thorin Oakenshield. The leader of their company and his king who he had the most trouble trusting. It wasn't until they reached the home of the shape-shifter that Bifur was even remotely comfortable around the imposing royal. He watched as the hobbit and king slowly gravitated towards each other, resisted banging his head off the table on several occasions and finally came to the conclusion that the king was just as mortal as the next dwarf. It wasn't until his heart missed a beat when the king collapsed in the Mirkwood that he realised Thorin was also family.

_**AN: Leave me a message and let me know what you think please. **_


	4. Fire

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

Fire.

Bifur stared in the mirror as he mentally worked himself up for his show. He was known world over as one of the best Side-show acts in the business, and also one of the safest. Yes he was aware it was a strange combination, but then if he wasn't he would have sliced his face into ribbons or set himself on fire years ago. He smirked as he ran a hand down his chest, the fire show definitely caught people's attention.

He walked onto the stage as the music started and gave a nod to show he was ready. Since it was only a short show he was going for the fire act. The crowd responded wildly as he trailed the burning batons across his skin, before moving onto his fire eating act.

He allowed himself a moment's pause to gather his breath before he bowed at the end of his show. Even with the wild applause he could still see the shock on a lot of the faces. Oh he did so love getting that response.


	5. Headless Horseman

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

Headless Horseman.

Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old dwarf who had a reputation for being the best conjure in the Rhovanion. With his bedraggled black-and-grey hair, funny eyes - one yellow and one green - and the axe in his forehead, Old Bifur was not a pretty picture, but he was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted.

Old Bifur's house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Bifur was the only one living in the Brown Lands who knew how to read; his granny, who had also been a conjurer, had taught him the skill as part of his magical training.

Just about the only friend Old Bifur had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around his place. It rooted so much in his kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he'd seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Bifur's porch, chattering away to him while he stewed up some potions in the kitchen, but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine.

"Raw Head" was the name Old Bifur gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Esgaroth. The razorback didn't mind the funny name. Raw Head kept following Old Bifur around his little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He'd even walk to town with him when she came to the local mercantile to sell his home remedies.

Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Bifur around the town that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time when Old Bifur came to the mercantile without him.

"Where's Raw Head?" the owner asked as he accepted his basket full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished in an agitate manner as Old Bifur said: "I ain't seen him around today, and I'm mighty worried. You seen him here in town?"

"Nobody's seen him around today. They would've told me if they did," the mercantile owner said. "We'll keep a lookout fer you."

"That's mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway," Old Bifur said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over his weekly pay.

Old Bifur fussed to himself all the way home. It wasn't like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback, and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring dwarf got home, he mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate.

"Where's that old hog got to?" he asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Bifur saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs that didn't belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head. Then he saw him taking the hogs down to Esgaroth, where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then he saw his hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been his hog, and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile.

Old Bifur was infuriated by the death of his only friend. It was murder to him, plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was his friend, and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.

Now Old Bifur tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but he knew the dark secrets too. He pulled out an old, secret book his granny had given him and turned to the very last page. He lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones. Then he began to chant: "Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Bifur's cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummelled the treetops.

"Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

Bifur continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out through the window, heading in the direction of Esgaroth.

When the silver light struck Raw Head's severed head, which was piled on the hunter's wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter's wagon rumbled away toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out: "Bloody bones, get up and dance!"

Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he was alone with Old Bifur. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones.

Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him. Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home.

It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft.

The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?" he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask.

"To see your grave," Raw Head rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall.

"Very funny. Ha,ha," The hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bear's claws could clearly be seen.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?" he snapped. "You look ridiculous."

"To dig your grave…" Raw Head intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter's neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid.

Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees and up the path to a large, moonlight rock. He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail.

When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped: "You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid! Land o' Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?"

"To sweep your grave…" Raw Head boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced passed the old well-house, passed the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head's gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon's tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?" he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him.

"To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!" Raw Head roared, descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching.

Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night. But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest in the company of his friend Old Bifur. And once a month, on the night of the full moon, Raw Head would ride the hunter's horse through town, wearing the old man's blue overalls over his bloody bones with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail. In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw, razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see.

_**AN;**_

_**Leave me a review please. **_


	6. Crimson in the Embers

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

Crimson in the embers.

Bifur stared deep into the fire, watching as the flames burnt to glowing embers. This had been a tradition of his for as long as he could remember, even with the axe in his head he could vaguely recall sitting with his mother and watching the fire dwindle as the first snows fell outside. He had been alone in this for so many years and yet the small body sitting beside him had found out of this and had chosen to sit with him in the long dark of the winter night.

As the embers turned crimson the hobbit beside him squeezed his hand and leant against his arm. Bifur finally turned from the flames and dropped a kiss to the curls at his shoulder. He gave thanks to Mahal that Bilbo had somehow chosen him to spend the rest of his life with.

_**An: leave me a review and let me know what you think.**_


	7. White is in the Winter's Night

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

White is in the winter night, that everyone remembers.

Bifur stood on the side lines and watched as the Company built the bonfire higher. The snow lay deep on the ground around them and he had been charged with watching Bombur's children. Tonight there would be feasting and celebrations, but for now as the first flames began to lick at the wood Bifur was happy to be among friends and family.

_**An: leave me a review and let me know what you think.**_


	8. Flowers

_**AN: I do not own any of the characters or places in The Hobbit, they belong to Professor Tolkien and he would kill me for how I have corrupted them. **_

Flowers.

His people didn't understand his new found love of things that grew. In their minds they were pretty, but short lived. In the end he simply gave up trying to explain.

He knew the right flowers, leaves, bark or root could cure his headaches, make him inks for his toys or fill the air with a sweet scent. He knew that a field of brilliant red blooms could bring a tear to the eye and a field of sweet, smelling yellow blooms glowed like gold under the sun. He also knew they could be used to send a message and so when he could interact with the Company's newest burglar he smiled and nodded to himself.

The first bloom he left was a yellow snapdragon. He watched as the hobbit picked it up and the puzzled look turned to one of happiness and then the curly head drooped in sadness.

Narrowing his eyes Bifur swore to place the next one in the small male's hands himself. So the following evening he wandered calmly up to the hobbit and handed him a single yellow rose he had plucked from one of the gardens they had rode through that morning. Their hobbit smiled and blushed before sweeping into a bow. "I would be honoured to be your friend Master Bifur."

With such luck at getting his message across Bifur spent many days riding in friendly silence beside the hobbit or answering his yes and no questions with a shake or nod of his head. The night Thorin was particularly harsh to the smaller male he frowned distractedly and wandered in search of a flower he could gift to lift the little one's spirits. Yelling loudly in triumph he raced back to the campsite and handed the dappled pink Chrysanthemum__to the bewildered hobbit. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile and a slight laugh, "No Master Bifur I believe that is you."

He watched as the small male became more acclimatised to travelling and even became useful as they set up camp. He wanted to ask the smaller male his own questions and so dragged Bofur to help him. That night was spent laughing and joking despite the cold wind that blew from the east. The night after they encountered the trolls.

Growling under his breath Bifur stalked through the undergrowth surrounding the ruined farmhouse they had stayed in to rest up after the drama. He needed to make several points and he was hoping the farmer had had a garden. It took him a while but he finally found what he needed to get his point across and carefully picked one of each bloom. Bilbo was sitting apart from the rest of the Company and a glance at Bofur told him it was by choice and so he picked his way carefully across to the hobbit and stared down at him. When Bilbo looked up he held out the first flower and winced internally as the hobbit's bottom lip wobbled slightly at the sight of the geranium he now held. Sighing he pushed on and handed the smaller male an Oleander flower, the pout slid into confusion and Bifur grunted softly as he handed the hobbit the nest flower he had picked. He watched with a slight smile as Bilbo caressed the almost velvety petals of the dark pink rose he had found, before looking up at him with a half-smile. Bilbo's laugh was musical as Bifur handed over the last of the flowers he had picked and he couldn't help but grin as eager hands accepted the nasturtium bloom. "Thank you Master Bifur, I promise it won't happen again, Might not get so lucky next time."

By the time the Company had made it to Rivendell Bifur realised he had fallen hard for the hobbit who was by his side and made him laugh. Leaving the company he wandered through the massive gardens searching for a flower. When he found the one he wanted, he realised he was nervous and spent the walk back to everyone wiping his palms on his trousers. Thankfully Bilbo was alone and biting his lip Bifur shyly handed him the Arbutus flower he had carefully chosen.

When a smiling Bifur and Bilbo wandered back to the Company there were braids woven with Forget-me-nots and orange blossom in Bifur's hair, while Bilbo supported a crown of Orchids, stock and white violets. To the Company's dismay they merely smiled mysterious smiles when questioned and snuck off together under the starlight bathed gardens of the Last Homely House.

_**AN: Leave me a review and let me know what you think please. **_

_**Flower meanings. **_

_**Yellow snapdragon – friendship.**_

_**Yellow Rose – friendship.**_

_**Chrysanthemum (general) – You are a wonderful friend. **_

_**Geranium – stupidity.**_

_**Oleander flower – caution.**_

_**Dark pink rose – Thankfulness.**_

_**Nasturtium – Victory in Battle.**_

_**Arbutus flower – Thee only do I love.**_

_**Forget-me-nots – True Love.**_

_**Orange blossom – Eternal love.**_

_**Orchid – Love.**_

_**Stock – bonds of affection, you'll always be beautiful to me. **_

_**White violets – Let's take a chance on happiness. **_


	9. Nine Drummers Drumming

_**AN: I don't own any of the Hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

_**Warning. Mentions of slash.**_

Nine Drummers Drumming.

Drums were an integral part of the service he had been told. So he was to have drummers at his wedding. Strange though it might seem Bifur hadn't been fazed by the need to include drums or flowers or the ribbons binding their hands. The day had been blissful for him, he was marrying his One and his family, friends were all there. Now though he was panicking, he had no idea what he was to do. They newlywed couple had been driven to a secluded smial and then left with a larder full of food and an empty house. He sat on the very edge of his seat as Bilbo pottered around him, not realising he was tying his fingers together again and again.

Soon Bilbo noticed and placed a soothing hand on his wrist. "Bifur?"

Strangely despite all they had been through he didn't want Bilbo to know he was scared now so he asked about the drummer boys. Bilbo grinned at him and leant back in his chair loosening the collar of his shirt and dumping the cravat on the side table, so Bifur felt it safe to do the same.

"The first drummer is to symbolise the groom." He looked Bifur in the eye, "The second drummer is to symbolise the bride, or in this case the other groom." He had obviously decided his chair was uncomfortable and moved to sit in Bifur's lap as he had so many other times. "The third drummer is to symbolise the end of our single life." His hobbit was a warm weight against him and Bifur hummed as he buried his nose in sweet smelling curls. Bilbo chuckled, "The fourth drummer is to sound in the start of our married life. The fifth drummer is to show our family and friends are standing at our side, yes I know it is daft as we could see them, but it's tradition.

Bifur found his waistcoat buttons had been open and Bilbo was sliding it off his shoulders and moving himself off his knee. "It has been a long day should we head for bed?" Nervous again Bifur nodded and allowed himself to be steered to one of the bedrooms. He watched Bilbo shuffle around getting ready for bed and swallowed hard as he realised his husband was standing in nothing but his underwear, an eyebrow raised in question. Swallowing he asked again about the drummers and set about removing his outer layers.

Bilbo tugged his undershirt over his head and chuckled, moving to help Bifur with the ties on his. "The sixth drummer is to send a message to those we want to be there but can't." Bifur allowed himself to be manoeuvred so he was lying with Bilbo wrapped around him and he closed his eyes to allow himself to become accustomed to the feel of naked skin against his own. "The seventh is to show we have shared all our secrets." Bifur froze as long fingers traced over his scars, he knew Bilbo knew he had them, but this was different somehow. Bilbo's voice was soothing and so he focused on that. "The eighth drummer is our future."

Bifur found Bilbo straddling him and looked up into hazel eyes in shock. "The ninth drummer," fascinated Bifur traced the blush spreading over Bilbo's cheeks and down his neck. "Erm yes the ninth drummer is to symbolise the consummation of our marriage."

Bifur froze and blinked, but it was enough to clue his One in. "Oh Bifur. Silly dwarf, why didn't you just say?" he had expected disbelief but not the almost possessive need that Bilbo kissed him with.

He found that he was a very good student and Bilbo a very willing teacher.

%

As he lay in the moonlight he glanced at their hands lying on the top of the covers. "I am yours, as you are mine."


	10. Gingerbread Houses

_**AN: I don't own any of The Hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

Gingerbread houses – Day 3.

Bifur arrived at Bilbo's for his typical afternoon tea and knocked smartly on the door. He huffed slightly as a distant voice called for him to come in and through to the kitchen. Carefully opening the door, he sneezed as a deliciously rich scent filled his nose. Habit had him kicking his boots off, unwinding his scarf from around his neck and hanging it and his leather coat on one of the brass pegs to his left.

On stocking feet he padded through the familiar living room and into a warm, spicy smelling kitchen. He pulled up short at the sight of a heat flushed hobbit with flour in his curls, crimson shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a wide smile stretching his face. Chuckling at his friend's enjoyment of baking Bifur took in the array of glass jars filled with spices, sugar and flour lined up on the table, and the trays of cools something on the benches. Idly he picked up a jar of what he recognised as molasses and leaned against a work surface to be out of Bilbo's way as the smaller male took another loaded tray out of the oven. He grinned when he had the hobbit's attention and placed the jar down to sign his curiosity.

Bilbo winced guiltily, "Sorry Bifur, I lost track of time. I was starting to make gingerbread houses today."

Bifur shook his head in confusion and asked what his friend was talking about.

Letting out a triumphant yell Bilbo straightened from where he had been rummaging in a drawer and place the metal objects he was holding down before he turned to answer. "Gingerbread isn't quite what it sounds like. It is actually a sweet, a dessert if you will, traditionally made during the winter back in the Shire." He sliced a small piece off and handed it to the dwarf. "Nice isn't it?"

Bifur signed ecstatically as he chewed, the spiciness of the ginger melting away to the warmth of cinnamon and then melding with the sweetness of the molasses and sugar.

Bilbo held up a cutter and a thin blade, "Do you want to help me make the houses for your people's kits?" He waggled his eyebrows ad Bifur looked unsure. "Please Bifur, you are so precise at your toy making I wouldn't trust anyone else to help me." He grinned back at the wide smile he got in return, "We can even eat the leftovers for dinner."

They worked in companionable silence as Bilbo whisked up Royal icing to hold the houses together and Bifur cut the shapes they would need. Noticing the smaller male changing the colour of the icing Bifur elbowed him and demanded to be taught how to do it. He had great fun mixing up a selections of jewel colours. He grinned back at Bilbo when the hobbit chuckled at him. "How about we decorate these?"

Tilting his head Bifur looked at the piles of walls and roofs he had just finished cutting and nodded excitedly. He took great delight in icing careful patterns onto the roofs and walls, rummaging through Bilbo's collection of sweets for added details. It was late when he staggered home a small box of delicious gingerbread under one arm and a wide smile on his face.

The next day he happily distracted the children of Erebor as Bilbo handed brightly coloured boxes over to their parents. The Company were not to know something was going on until the dwarf and hobbit staggered into their communal area a carefully balanced something between them. After they had slid it onto the table Bilbo gestured for Bombur's young family to move forward and for Fili, Kili, Ori and Gimli to join them.

Curious the rest of the Company also crowed around. Bifur grinned at Bilbo and with a flourish they carefully removed the red and green cloth from the object it was draped over. 'Oohs' and 'Aahs' filled the room as the company took in the beautifully, and colourfully decorated town in front of them. If Fili, Kili, Ori and Gimli were at first pouting at being included in the children, they soon changed their mind and defended the town with vigour when they tasted the samples Bifur had thought to bring.

Across Erebor children were giggling excitedly as the stared in awe at the miniscule, architectural wonders that they would get to eat if they were good.

If the families without children found paper wrapped parcels outside their doors for several days following then the Company merely whistled innocently and gazed longingly at the town they (bar Fili, Kili and Ori) had not been allowed to touch.

_**AN: Leave me a review and let me know what you think. **_

_**For a view of the Company's gingerbread town look up katelynannyce on and then photos and gingerbread houses. Imagine it is similar to number 1 and that Bifur being the minor genius he is has managed to make it light up somehow. **_

_***Gingerbread has been baked in Europe for centuries. In some places, it was a soft, delicately spiced cake; in others, a crisp, flat cookie, and in others, warm, thick, steamy-dark squares of "bread," sometimes served with a pitcher of lemon sauce or whipped cream. It was sometimes light, sometimes dark, sometimes sweet, sometimes spicy, but it was almost always cut into shapes such as men, women, stars or animals, and colourfully decorated or stamped with a mould and dusted with white sugar to make the impression visible.***_

_**There will be 24 chapters in this collection dedicated to the days of Advent. 1 chapter dedicated for Christmas day. And 12 chapters leading us up to the Twelfth Night and through the Twelve Days of Christmas. **_

_**Any and all requests will be taken into account. If I can't fit them in this I will dedicate them to you in one of my other collections of short stories as a Christmas present.**_


	11. Unleasded

_**AN: I do not own any of the characters or places in The Hobbit, they belong to Professor Tolkien and he would kill me for how I have corrupted them. **_

_**Warning: Violence.**_

Unleashed.

He felt the swing of the blade close to his head, too close. Watching dispassionately as a few of his hairs floated to the ground Bifur dispatched the orc in front of him with a simple thrust of his boar spear through its chest.

A quick head count told him his family were safe and upon Dwalin's signal he cocked his head to one side and pondered the best move to make.

Screaming out "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!_"_ Bifur sprang forward joining the ranks of the dwarves now rushing down the slopes of the mountain and crashing into the ranks of orc scum. Blades flashed all around him and he threw back his head and howled into the coming night as his trusty boar spear finally snapped, firmly embedded on the stomach of a stunned looking goblin. Barely pausing for breath and feeling more alive than he had in a good man years Bifur stooped and swept up a black axe that had fallen from its misshapen owner's hand.

Behind him he could hear further battle cries and they stoked the battle rage pumping the blood threw his veins. Even as he hewed his way through the neck of the next orc his eyes landed on a very familiar creature. There at the side of the ogri leading the attack was the urkk who had thrown the axe now firmly embedded in his skull. Growling softly in his throat Bifur changed his course of attack.

He had waited decades for revenge and before he died he would return the act of violence from the thagi tenfold.

_**AN:**_

_**The cry is translated "Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!".**_

_**Translations**_

_**(Khudzul to English).**_

_**Ogri – Ogre/ very large orc.**_

_**Urkk – orc.**_

_**Thagi – murderous traitor/skaven/failed assassin.**_


	12. That Voice

_**AN: I apologise now my brain is warped. I don't own any of the characters in Middle Earth I am just corrupting them, they belong to Tolkien. Thank you to those of you are still following me and welcome to those have just joined me. Please let me know what you think of the chapter, I do enjoy getting your reviews.**_

_**Warning: Smut.  
Warning: Scenes of a sexual nature.  
Warning: Slash.  
Warning: Strong language.  
Hope my Celtic translations are okay.**_

That Voice.

Bifur shivered as he walked back to the quarters he shared with Kilí deep within Erebor. If it weren't for the promise he had made of an interesting night for just the two of them he would have been tempted to have asked for an extra guard duty in the Grand Hall just to avoid the frigid walk. The look in his dark eyes had almost made him send a message in for a sick day, and that was just with the promise. Thoughts now coursing through his mind Bifur hurried his steps, a fire starting under his skin.

The apartment was dimly lit with candles, and the bed freshly covered with a velvet throw. He had barely time to drop his armour and weapons when his mouth was caught in a searing kiss. Panting softly he helped remove his layers of tunics and kicking off his boots allowed himself to be pushed softly against the bed. The fire had warmed the air in here and so the goose bumps that rose over his bare skin were from anticipation. A gasp escaped his lips as a silken blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and he suddenly had to rely on his hearing, sense of smell and touch.

"Do you trust me?" The voice was lilting by his ear, and Bifur panted at the fact Kilí's accent was out in full force.

Nodding and not daring to trust his voice he, swallowed as his arms were tied to the posts of their bed. Dressed in nothing but his under trousers he bit his lip and tried to calm down by breathing deeply. The smells that carried to him didn't help in that attempt and he shuddered the deep scents of tobacco, wood smoke and paraffin flooded his mind. Kilí had apparently remembered a drunken conversation from many moons ago and by Mahal this was going to test all of his restraints.

"By the Valar look at you Mo ghrá." Bifur tried to make his breathing shallower as that damn accent of his One made his heart skip a beat. He could feel the heat from Kilí's bare skin were the other was hovering over him and the soft brush of chest hair as the younger dwarf leant over him to whisper in his ear. "You look ready to be ravished. Tied up beneath me like this," lips brushed softly over Bifur's collar bone and he gasped tugging ineffectually at the ties holding him down. He felt Kilí smirk against his skin and swallowed hard as the brunette kept talking, "Oh the things I wish to do to you Mo bhanna."

Bifur groaned lowly as rough fingers found into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp and sending lightning bolts of pleasure through his already over sensitive body. Kilí seemed determined that all of his kinks would be played upon and so was whispering once again in his ear, "I wish you could see yourself, you look so debauched, but that is what you wanted isn't it, to be helpless under me as I ravage you. You knew I would not be able to resist you like this and you were right."  
Just like that the accent became more pronounced and Bifur groaned allowed as Kilí ran nails over his knee, tracing patterns on the skin as he settled beside him. "Ba mhaith liom a blas tú!" Biting down hard on his lower lip, Bifur fought the urge to cum there and then as Kilí slipped into his native tongue. There was a smirk in the slender dwarf's voice as he continued, "Mé díreach breá touching do chorp. Mothaíonn sé dochreidte."

Bifur could feel himself shaking now and couldn't help but groan as a tongue lapped over his collar bones and a heavy weight settled across his hips. "Fuck, Bifur," Kilí's voice was wrecked and Bifur could feel his control slipping further. "Dammit why haven't we tried this earlier?" Kilí punctuated his question with a sharp nip to his clavicle and Bifur arched his neck to allow the archer more room. "I wonder how long it will take me to have you begging."

Nails scratched lightly over where his under trousers had slipped and Bifur groaned, "Ní fada, mo aingeal." He hated how breathy he sounded, but when Kilí got started with his full accent he would do anything for him, then there was all of the added stimulation. "Ní fada ar chor ar bith."

"Shall we see?" Finally Kilí was kissing him, the hand in his hair the right side of pleasure pain and the nails on his scalp causing his skin to shiver.

Panting as Kilí left his lips to trail open mouthed kisses down the column of his neck Bifur snapped. "Le do thoil Kilí," he gasped out, "Le do thoil grá a dhéanamh dom anois. Déan dom mise!"

He sighed in relief as his words finally broke the younger dwarf's control and his hands were untied allowing him to grasp at slightly hair covered skin as they both grappled with the few clothes remaining. He left the blind fold in place, hands reaching for Kilí and wrapping a work worn hand around them both.

"Fuck Bifur!" The lilting tone given to his name pushed him over the edge and he swore almost silently as shivers wracked his form and lights burst behind his eyelids.

It took him a while to come back to himself and he did so to find the blind fold removed and Kilí leaning on an elbow peering down at him. Smirking Bifur mustered enough energy to push himself up and pull the younger male into a soft kiss.

_**Translations:  
**__**(Irish to English.)  
Mo ghrá – My Love.  
Mo bhanna – My bonded.  
Ba mhaith liom a blas tú – I want to taste you.  
Mé díreach breá touching do chorp. Mothaíonn sé dochreidte - I love just touching your body. It feels incredible.  
Ní fada, mo aingeal – Not long, my angel.  
Ní fada ar chor ar bith. – Not long at all.  
Le do thoil Kilí – Please Kilí  
Le do thoil grá a dhéanamh dom anois – Please make love to me now.  
Déan dom mise – make me yours.**_


	13. Thirteen Loves

_**AN: I don't own any of The Hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them. **_

_**Warning: Slash.**_

_**Warning: Mentions of sex/sex scenes. **_

_**Warning: Food Porn.**_

_**Warning: Threesome. **_

_**Warning: Fluff.**_

_**Warning: Cross dressing.**_

_**Warning: Do cousins count as incest?**_

_**Warning: Bondage/mild BDSM.**_

_**LovesDragons: This is for you. I have even redone the pairings I have already wrote. **_

Thirteen Loves.

_Thorin._

Bifur awoke slowly, a soft smile on his face appearing as he recognised the carved and painted ceiling above him. The mattress he lay on was deliciously soft and the light of a single guttering oil lamp caught the golden embroidery on the curtains of the four poster bed. The warmth at his side drew his attention to the dwarf curled up in bed with him. He slowly raised a hand and carded his fingers through the silver streaked black hair. His smile deepened as the dwarf snuggled further into his body heat, almost purring as he continued the petting. He would have never thought he would catch the attention of the king himself and planned on making the most of every moment he had with his Hrun, whether that be the energetic lovemaking of the previous night or a rare leisurely morning such as this one. The heavy arm over his waist tightened and he met sleep-hazed blue eyes with a charming smile. Tilting his head ever so slightly Bifur pressed a gentle kiss to still swollen lips, before leaning their foreheads together in greeting. The candle finally guttered out and Bifur decided the morning was too early and so drawing Thorin closer to him, he wrapped his arms around the sturdy, but slender waist and pulled the furs over them once again.

_Gloin._

Bifur watched the younger, red head in front of him carefully. The brown eyes were alight with passion and the broad hands flew. He knew this dwarf as a member, however distant of the Line of Durin, and yet despite the class difference the Dwarrow before him drew him in, as if he were a moth to a flame. He found himself visiting the tavern night after night, until the not quite of age dwarf, only two years younger than himself had met his eyes with a brilliant smile and offered a hand of friendship. That friendship grew and Bifur found himself sneaking away from his carving and studies to see the red head. Gloin always welcomed him with a quick comment and a large hug. It was Gloin who made the first move and the night before his coming of age Bifur found himself tumbled into a bed, gasping between kisses just the right side of hard, rough hands removing his clothing as he scrabbled with the ties of Gloin's tunic. Their moans had filled the darkness of Bifur's rented rooms, and they had fallen asleep with Gloin still in him. Bifur had found himself awoken on the morn of his coming of age with a soft kiss to the nose and pancakes.

_Filí._

Bifur always thought he was too old, too damaged for the prince who was like a ray of the sun itself. He always expected the blonde to come to his senses and leave him for someone more worthy. Yet when Filí smiled at him he would do anything for the younger dwarf, when a warm kiss was dropped alongside the axe in his head he felt loved, and when those muscular arms were around him he felt safe. He jumped at any chance to spend time with the prince and it was one of these chances that found him dressed in furs and leather walking through the dark undergrowth of a forest, the air around them smelling of damp, decaying leaves and pine, the bow and quiver he carried bouncing softly against his back, a hunting knife at his side and a shiv tucked in his boots. Filí walked at his right, and Bifur couldn't help but shoot him an admiring glance despite their mission. The blonde's hair was loose down his bare back reaching to the tops of his thighs, braided only with two simple plaits to keep it from his eyes. His feet were bare and his only clothing consisted of a knee-length, dark, leather kilt, and the straps that crossed his chest and held his two swords to his back, at his waist hung a leather whip. The arm closest to Bifur was painted in a dark swirling tattoo, indicative of the other's deeds and his blue eyes shone in the rare light that managed to filter in.

A soft huff brought Bifur's attention to the black wolf at his left and he frowned down at his brown eyed companion. He didn't need his own hunt-kin mocking him. From Filí's right a deep-brown, wolf let out a scolding yelp and Bifur frowned at the blue-eyed canine, he would be the one to inform his hunt-kin of the mistake made. Filí chuckled softly beside him and he shot the dwarf a rare smile, entangling their fingers while they still had a moment alone. The breeze brought a new smell to them and with a soft increase of pressure they unlinked their hands and drew their weapons, sidling out of the dubious safety of the trees. The forest dipped away into a treeless valley, the valley was normally empty, but this night it was filled with tents and fire and noise. The wolves drew back into the shadows of the trees and Bifur dropped to a crouch so as not to be silhouetted against the sky, catching sight of Filí doing the same by his side. Heart in his throat Bifur allowed the callused hand at his elbow to draw him away from the camp and back into the trees. Eyes never leaving the intruders the two dwarves slipped into the shadows once again, wolves once again at their sides as this time Bifur ran through the trees, Filí a constant at his side as the went to call the mountain to arms.

_Nori._

The first time Bifur had met Nori he had nearly broken the thief's hand upon finding him trying to steal his coin purse. Then he had met green eyes with his own, seen the emotions the other dwarf was trying to hide and softened, allowing the slender fingers to slip from his grasp and the thief to flee the scene. He had thought that would be the end of his contact with the mysterious dwarf, and yet had soon found himself bumping into the other at regular intervals, which he didn't think odd until he realised the guard never managed to catch the male. Making his mind up he had blurted out an invite to a party and so was now leaning casually against a wall, dressed in skin-tight leathers watching the green-eyed menace charming his host. When he had first caught sight of the thief his palms had gone sweaty and he'd had to bite his lip against the gasp that threatened to escape. In contrast to Bifur's own wolf costume, the other male was dressed in delicately ripped leathers, that showed flashes of creamy skin when he moved. Two pointed ears were perched in his hair, the red mass of which was braided into a thick long braid down his back. He had painted his nose black, a tail was attached to the back of his pants, but the part of the costume that really caught Bifur's eye was the collar around the other dwarf's throat. Bifur smiled, flashing his teeth as green eyes sought him out, he really couldn't wait to have the thief in his bed, dressed in naught but that collar. Predator grin still in place Bifur stalked forward, eyes still locked on Nori's. Ignoring the whoops and cat-calls, he swept the dwarf in to his arms and kissed him deeply, the fingers of one hand wrapped possessively around that collar, the other splayed firmly over that cute arse.

_Balin and Dori._

Bifur could feel himself sweating as one of his lovers sashayed towards him. The velvet skirt was short and clung to Dori's hips, showing just a hint of lace where his stockings flashed. Bifur allowed his eyes to trail down Dori's legs to the high shoes and then dragged them agonisingly slowly up the other's body, swallowing at the corset that clinched his lover's waist in tightly and ended in a sheer shirt that sat snuggly over the other's arms. Behind him he could hear Balin take a deep breath and feel the older male's erection pressing into his back. He and Balin were naked and the older male's hands gripped his hips hard as Dori reached up and slowly unpinned his mass of silvery grey hair from its complicated braids. Bifur found himself digging his nails into Balin's wrists as Dori straddled his lap, grinding down against him, when he through his head back, Balin nipped at his pulse point and Bifur looked up just in time to see his loves meet in a steamy kiss. When they drew back Dori's make-up was slightly smudged and Balin's eyes were glazed. He allowed his hands to finally reach out and touch Dori, trailing his fingers up muscled thighs, Bifur slowly worked the velvet skirt up until it was around Dori's waist.

As the three lay curled up, Dori's clothes strewn around the room Bifur felt himself drifting off. His last thought was that Dori should never have worried about what his partners thought of him wearing women's clothing.

_Dwalin._

It wasn't gentle. It never was. Whether he was throwing punches at the guard in a tavern brawl, fighting alongside the muscled warrior or being pounded into the mattress. It would never be soft, but there were moments that shone in the adrenaline fuelled life they loved to live. Dwalin brushing his hair from the axe in his forehead just after they had orgasmed. Bifur carefully stitching up yet another wound Dwalin had gained in the battlefield. The tap of head, carefully angled to avoid the axe when either had been away too long. The curl of fingers around a wrist just before they loosed their battle cry, hefted their weapons and rushed from the lines to smash into their foes. So amid the blood, bruises and harsh kisses they both knew they were loved. If their love wasn't viewed as such by society then it was societies fault for being blind. Bifur felt all this flood threw his mind as his husband threw him against the floor paved in gold and gems, he grinned savage smile at the warrior who was stripping out of his own armour and Bifur wriggled out of travel stained leathers. The gold bit into his skin, bruising his back as finger grasped too harshly at his shoulders as the warrior lowered himself rapidly onto Bifur. Their cries wound around the treasury and Bifur pulled the larger dwarf down for a teeth filled kiss as he thrust up.

_Kilí and Bofur._

Bifur had been surprised when the archer prince had pinned him against a wall when he was visiting to finalise his agreement on the quest. His surprise had turned to lust when the taller dwarf had crowed into his space and winding fingers into Bifur's hair kissed him as if it would grant him life. He'd allowed himself to be pulled into the prince's bedroom and shoved onto the bed. His eyes widened as Bofur came through the connecting door, barely dressed and started to kiss the archer prince. He watched with wide eyes as his cousin's clever fingers stripped the archer bare, leaving masses of tanned skin on display and Bifur bit his lip as he took in the picture the two made. So caught up was he that he barely raised a complaint when they both joined him on the bed naked and started to strip him. Soon he found his own hands wound in Kilí's hair as the brunette took him deep, bringing him to the edge with his clever tongue before withdrawing with a groan as Bofur did something behind him. It wasn't until Bofur started to move Bifur finally caught on and something in him snapped the last of his control. Moving forward he slowly shifted their positions so Bofur's arm had to wrap around Kilí's chest to keep the prince upright. Sharing a grin with his flushed cousin Bifur swallowed the prince down whole.

_Ori._

Bifur liked this side of Ori. The side only he got to truly see. In Ori's office in the library of Erebor Bifur was kneeling on the stone floor, blindfolded and hands tied behind his back. The office door was locked, but it didn't change that this was risky. He was completely naked and Ori dressed in nothing but a shirt and knee-length leather boots. He shivered as the scribes warm fingers brushed over his cheek and bit his lip so he wouldn't break the rules and press a kiss to them. He was rewarded for his good behaviour when the fingers trailed to his neck and traced the tattoos the swirled there. He sensed Ori move behind him and swallowed the moan he wished to make as strong thumbs pressed either side of his spine. Goose-bumps covered his skin as he felt Ori kneel behind him, hand ghosting over his bare back, barely skimming his hips until they linked over his stomach. A soft kiss was pressed to the back of his neck and Bifur felt himself glow as he was praised for his good behaviour. Late he snuggled into Ori's side, feeling safe and content in the arms of his Hrun.

_Bombur._

He knew his cousin liked to cook, but the spread on display was astounding. Pastries, savouries, desserts, cakes, pies and all manner of goodies, just simply waiting to be eating. He shot his baby cousin a look form under his eyes and watched as Bombur blushed deliciously. "It is your birthday Bifur," Bombur's voice was soft and Bifur smiled widely at the unsure note. He crossed the room, gathering his cousin into his arms.

"I love it Bombur," He crooned, dropping a kiss to the other's forehead. "You shouldn't have."

Warm arms threaded around his neck and Bombur rested his forehead against his, "But I wanted too."

_Bilbo._

Bifur was tired, he'd spent the day in the bustling market place of Hobbiton in a place called The Shire. He had still to pack up the few remaining articles from his stall, and he didn't know where he would find a place to bed down for the night. To his surprise a green-eyed, bronze-curled male was talking to him, and such was the sweet smile he found himself agreeing to spend the night in the lad's smial. He was pleasantly surprised when the hobbit helped him pack up what was left of his gear and even helped him carry it up the winding hill, to what he assumed was the lad's home. He was offered a place to bath while his host went about making something for supper, and thankfully took the chance to wash the dirt from the road away. Clean and suddenly ravenous Bifur wandered the wooden panelled halls to find his host in the kitchen. He was flashed a blinding smile and was soon seated beside the hobbit tucking into a delicious supper. Butter roasted baby veg, Rosemary potatoes and lamb so well cooked it fell apart in his mouth. He leant back pleasantly happy, nodding when the hobbit beside him offered him dessert. It wasn't until he looked up and caught the spark in his host's eye that he twigged what he meant and upon the realisation hitting him Bifur staggered to his feet and dragged the shorter male into a harsh kiss. They managed to stagger to the bed room, door slamming shut behind them as Bifur found himself tipped onto a large bed. The hobbit's clothing was confusing and so taking a deep breath Bifur lay back and watched as the smaller male removed each item teasingly slowly. It wasn't until his host stood naked before him Bifur noticed the tray beside the bed, his host claiming his mouth distracted him again and it wasn't until they were both as bare as the day they were born Bifur found out what was on the tray.

Nearly two decades later and Bifur once again found himself in Hobbiton, The Shire. He swallowed hard as he stared up at a familiar green door and then hid himself away in embarrassment as he toppled threw said door in a pile of dwarves. He learnt the name of his host was Bilbo Baggins and when he finally gathered the courage to look up he met the green eyes of the hobbit. He swallowed had at the wide grin that slowly spread over the shorter male's face and dropped his eyes to the other's lips, just in time to see a cream covered strawberry enter them. Letting out a yell, Bifur dived across the table, and remembering how much sweeter the red fruit tasted with kiss, pulled Bilbo to him. Silence fell around him, but Bifur had little time to be embarrassed as the hobbit pulled them both to their feet and grabbing the tray of strawberries, whipped cream and elderberry syrup, dragged them both to the bedroom. Bifur cackled as the door shut behind him, who would have thought a dwarf would learn to love fruit.

_**Hrun – One.**_


End file.
